The War After
by LittleDragon3k
Summary: After the defeat of Sauron, another evil appeared. Now, the next generation will have to face its own danger and peril. R&R pls :P


*Disclaimer* I don't own Middle Earth or Lord of the Rings but I do own some of my original characters, such as Galammir, Phennor, and Pendor. Any similarity is purly coincidential (I hope some of the names I made up isn't same as any flowing out their :P)  
  
The War of the Ring ended with the defeat of Sauron, and the One Ring. Gandalf, Frodo, and the Elves sailed to the Grey Havens, leaving the next generation to face their own perils and danger. A hundred years of peace fell on Middle Earth, and its people grew and prospered. The Peace allowed for more travels and discovery, and discover they did. Five continents bordering Middle Earth appeared, each with settlements of Men and Dwarves. However, the peace did not last, and another evil appeared. Out of the Eastern Continent, a power grew. There Baramun, the Shadown King, began his war. Using the losted power of the Orcs, he drove all Men out and claimed the Eastern Continent for himself. It was then that the wizards arrived again, this time numbering in the hundreds. Against Baramun they fought, and died. When all has been done, Middle Earth collapsed and fell into the ocean. With all their remaining forces, Men marched on Baramun. There all died, save a child and the Shadow King self. The Wizards remaining after the battle drew on all the power left in them and sealed of the whole land of Baramun and risen Middle Earth once again to seek any of its hidden power. Sealed in his own darkness, Baramun sat and waited. Another hundred years pass and the Shadow King rose again....and now seeking revenge.  
  
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The Night as Newen  
  
A cold night had fallen on Newen and the night guard settled himself down for his watch. He placed a long chair beside the gate and sat down with a blanket upon him. The sleepy homes of the townsfolk rested peacefully within the outer wall as he watched about. The crickets chirped around him as he felt a sudden tiredness. Slowly he closed his eyes and breathe freely as he plunged into deep sleep.  
  
"Sleep, your watchful eyes are not needed over Newen tonight." Said an old man softly over the sleeping guard. His beaten gray cloak draped over him and his head save the mouth where a rich gray beard fluttlered as he talked. In his left hand he held a staff as raggedy as his cloaked. Silently he slipped through the gate and sealed it behind.  
  
He entered a street lined with shops and shacks. All was closed and draped in the darkness of the night. Fish, vegetables, meat, and other signs hung above shops was still visible in the faint and waning moonlit night. Shacks lined about in front of many homes, also with signs of the items that was to be sold. Here and there, a small inn would appeared, some with its room still lit and other with the entrance still open.  
  
At the first corner, the old man turned right and entered a narrow alley. Small shops were about, probably of the poorer merchants of the town. At the last building, the stranger knocked softly on the door. For a while he stood, shifting now and then. Suddenly the door opened with a low creak and a young lad of around 14 years of age appeared. The boy held a small candle in his hand and sleep was still in his eyes. He had short ruffled hair of a brownish hue. His bluish eyes was frequently hid under his tiredness, which seems to be taking control of him.  
  
"How may I help you, sir?" Said the boy sleepily.  
"Get your master, young one," replied the man with a smile.  
"May I know your name or title, sir?"  
"You can tell him that the Collector has come."  
"Aye, sir. If that is how my master shall know of you then I shall tell him."  
  
The cloaked stranger remained outside as the boy disappeared into the shallow confine of the small hourse. After a moment the boy returned with a man still in his night robe. He had wide eyes and neat brows. His nose was long, which ended in a small balck mustache that blended into his dark beard. Gray, unruly hair rested upon his head and hung down well below his eyes and rested in his cheeks. Upon seeing the man outside, he quickly brushed aside his hair and exclaimed in great excitement...  
  
"Master Galammir? Come in, come in. Pendor, fectch meat and wine. Hurry!" Startled, the boy disappeared into his house once again.  
  
"Thank you, Phennor," answered Galammir with a friendly smile. At once he entered the house and saw the familiar scene, although it has been many summer since his last visit. Throughout the shop hung the metal works of Phennor; pots, pans, sword, axes, and all other assortment of items. For he was a blacksmith, and Pendor was his apprentice.  
  
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A shallow blow of the wind blew silently outside door as Galammir and Phennor sat and talk. Under his cloak, Galammir tighten his grasp upon his staff. Suddenly, and softly, a knock came upon the door. A voice rang out, shrill and cold, and the door blew inward. Outside stood dark shadows, ever shifting and changing. Phennor drew a sword that he had apparently hidden under the table as the wooden door landed beside him.  
  
"Fool, Shadows cannot be cut or harm by the likes of swords," whispered the formost.  
"Flee, vile things. You are not wanted here. Leave, and you shall not suffer my wrath, Vilnor," answered Phennor, no longer old and fragile but stern and experienced.  
"The metals of Men cannot deter the will of Shadows. Give me the boy, and none shall die this night."  
"You speak as if you could overcome me," inturrupted Galammir, who was still sitting calmly with his back to the Shadows.  
  
Like the wind, Galammir swung around with all his rage. A red blast came from his tilted staff and Vilnor was sent back into the dark alley with a loud roar. The other two rushed in and began their assault. Swift and true, the blade of Phennor flung. Upon touching its target, the sword glowed and sparked. Pain and agony came yelling out from the victims.  
  
Phennor gave a little laugh as the last Shadow he attacked drifted away and circled him.  
  
"Do you not recognize Ardane, the very one your master crafted through his arrogance?" Asked Phennor to Vilnor as he came back in.  
  
"FOOLS! YOU SHALL DIE NOW!" With great anger, Vilnor drew his own sword and assaulted Phennor. Another blinding light and Vilnor once again flew back. Galammir came upon him, glowing as he go. Vilnor gave a low growl and flowed away, the other two quickly followed. Galammir slowly return to the his normal state, and sealed back the door.  
  
"Alas, it will not always be easy. Three was here, and the other nine must have meet the Wild Rangers," Galammir sat down and in the corner of his eyes he could see Pendor in terror. He had dropped the food that he had been carrying, and shattered the cups of wine.  
  
"Pendor, come here," said Galammir, warm and comforting. Pendor, moving as fast as he could muster he legs to, arrived at Galammir's side and stood still and silent. "This sword," Galammir continued, taking Ardane from Phennor, "is the work of a great and terrible man. It was this, and you, that I had come this night. You, and another that has yet to be shown to you, are the sole heirs to an ancient power."  
  
"...but, no. It can't be. I am merely a boy, I cannot control a power so great that it can deter the will of shadows. If fact, I can barely handle a normal sword, let alone one of ancient wrath," these words came tumbling out of Phennor's mouth, full of terror and disbelief. "Why must I? Why can't the unknown other will it's power? I can't. Master Phennor can will the sword, can't you?"  
  
"Pendor, calm down. Your master cannot fully tap the power that was not meant to be his. Yet, calm yourself. Galammir is not here without explanation. He can tell you more than I can, and that is as it should be. And also, he knows of your condition," answered Phennor with a wink to Pendor. He gave Pendor a touch on the shoulder and sat him down beside Galammir. Silently, Phennor left the room.  
  
"Have you heard of the Shadow King, Baramun?" Asked Galammir.  
"Yes, they say he dwelts in the Dark Continent. The Kings of Old drove him there, and sealed him," answered Pendor.  
"Yes, that is true. But I guess you have not been told the whole story of him and his shadow kingdom. You, Pendor, are the son of the Shadow King. Your mother, a princess of the central land, was kidnapped by him. He took her as his mistress and she gave birth to you. Your grandfather, who had long waged war against Baramun, then gathered all his forces and marched on to the capital of Baramun. All perished in that battle save you, and Baramun. It was then that I came, too late to save your kin but not to save you. I fought hard against the Shadow King, but he strength had been drained before I arrived and I overcame him. With haste, I brought you back here, to Newen...a secluded and almost forgotten village. That was over a century ago, but you did not grew. It must have been the magic, and blood, of Baramun that have protected you from the decay of time. That, I fear, is over. Long have you been away from him, and his magic can no longer protect you. Now time will have it's affect on you, slower than normal Men, but not unchanging. He knows this, and is now putting all his will to get you back, for he believes that YOU are the sole heir to the power that had once been lost to him. He does not know of the other, and that had been our good fortune."  
  
For a moment, Galammir sat there silently. With his eyes still closed, Galammir asked, "Your body have not mature enough, but your mind has. Are you willing to let go immortality, and face a fate unknown?" 


End file.
